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She had meant to talk about all this with Adrian, but when he next called, she didn’t say anything about it. She tried to persuade herself it was that she didn’t want to damage his image of his father. Privately, though, she knew that it wasn’t his father he might lose respect for, but herself, the injured party. She tried to think of someone else she could take into her confidence, but there was no one. The neighbors were out of the question, and most of the other people she knew in the village she had met through Manfred. He had grown up here, and knew everyone, man and woman. Because she had been his wife, she was still greeted by many people today in the street, but she wasn’t on friendly terms with any of them. Once, a couple of years ago now, she had taken an Italian course, but the others there were all much younger than she was, and when it was over, the group split up. She thought of the man who had taught the course, who wasn’t a local. They had got along well together, but what was she going to say to him? He probably wouldn’t even remember who she was.

ON HIS FORTIETH BIRTHDAY Adrian threw a big party. For all my friends, he said, and he asked his mother if she would look after Felicitas. Johanna was there from the afternoon on, and played with her granddaughter while Iris and Adrian made salads. The party was to be held in the garden. The weather was being a bit unpredictable, and at the last moment Adrian had a big tent set up in the garden, in case it rained. The guests started arriving at six, work colleagues of Adrian’s and old school friends whom Johanna hadn’t seen in twenty years, but whom she immediately identified. Back then, she had been on easy terms with all of them, and it felt a little weird to her to be formal. Felicitas had gone off somewhere with some other kids. Johanna had followed them, but had quickly seen she wasn’t welcome. She went back out to the garden. Adrian was busy over the grill, Iris was welcoming the new arrivals and introducing them, if they didn’t know each other. Johanna stood on the fringes with a fixed smile on her face. She didn’t want to bother anyone, didn’t want anyone to see how unhappy she felt.

Clouds had filled the sky, it looked as though it could start raining any minute. The meat’s ready, called Adrian, and a line of people formed in front of the grill. Johanna went inside to get the children, then sat down with them at their junior table and tried to keep them vaguely under control. From time to time one or another of the parents would go up to the table and ask if everything was all right. One young woman remained standing behind a rather quiet toddler, laid her hand on his head, and asked him if he wasn’t tired yet. Only then did she seem to notice Johanna. She extended her hand and said, Why, how are you, we haven’t seen each other in ages. Johanna hesitated. Eva, said the young woman, I used to wear my hair longer. Now Johanna remembered. Eva had done an internship at the same time as Adrian, and for a while the two of them had been an item. She and Manfred had been fond of the girl, and both were disappointed when one day Adrian announced that they had broken up. He hadn’t given a reason, and Johanna hadn’t asked him for one either. Of course, now I remember, she said. And this is your little boy? Yes, this is Jan. Johanna took the little boy’s hand in hers. He looked at her rather rigidly. And who’s your daddy? she asked. Eva said she and Jan’s father weren’t together anymore. I’m sorry, said Johanna. Eva laughed and said, I’m not!

The older children had jumped up and run over to the sideboard, where Iris was serving dessert. The little ones followed them. Eva picked up Jan, but he wriggled so hard that she had to put him down and let him run after the others. I think they can look after themselves, said Eva. Wouldn’t you like to come and sit with us?

After dessert, Johanna put Felicitas to bed. As she came back down the stairs, she saw Eva standing in the hallway, jiggling a stroller. It’s started raining, said Eva in a hushed voice. I think he’s gone to sleep.

Shall I turn the light off? Johanna whispered.

There’s no need, said Eva, once he’s asleep, it’s not easy to wake him. She turned on the baby monitor and put the microphone next to the stroller.

But then, instead of going back out to the garden, she went into the kitchen, and, not bothering to switch on a light, took one of the empty champagne glasses that were standing around and filled it at the faucet. Johanna had followed her and said, Hang on, I’ll get you a clean glass, but Eva had already drunk from hers. Even so, Johanna took a glass from the cabinet and filled it, and stood there rather cluelessly until Eva took it from her and set it down on the side.

God, I’m so tired, Eva said, running her fingers through her hair. Man problems.

Johanna was silent. She wasn’t sure what the young woman expected from her. Well, time will tell, she said, and she sat down at the kitchen table.

Eva laughed. You never know, she said. He’s married, I’ll spare you the rest … I’ve heard it so many times, and now it’s happened to me. At least he was open with me from the start.

Her lover was a German teacher, like herself. They had met at a teachers’ refresher course and fallen in love immediately. But he had two children, and wasn’t prepared to leave his wife. He’s afraid he’ll lose the children, said Eva, and anyway his marriage seems to be OK. It’s such a wonderfully banal story. Johanna didn’t say anything, and Eva carried on. Her lover lived in Lucerne, maybe that was an advantage, the fact that they didn’t see each other that often. They met every couple of weeks. He visited her, she didn’t know what he told his wife, and she didn’t want to know, either. For a weekend at a time they lived together like man and wife, and then he went back to his family. Eva laughed. It’s peculiar, I’m not even jealous of his wife.

If his marriage is OK, said Johanna, then what makes him into an adulterer?

Eva shrugged her shoulders. Do you think it’s immoral? I tell myself it’s his responsibility, she said, after all he’s the one who’s cheating on his wife. Do you think I should get rid of him?

But that wasn’t the question that interested Johanna. What sort of person is he? she asked. Does he talk about his family with you? What do you talk about?

He’s a perfectly normal guy, said Eva, he doesn’t talk about his family much. That’s fine by me, it’s none of my business.

But is that normal? asked Johanna, more vehemently than she meant to. Is it normal for a man to have a mistress? Surely it can’t be?

In the bit of light that came in from the hall, she could see that Eva was smiling. Adrian never told you why we broke up, isn’t that right? she asked.

What would you say to his wife? asked Johanna. What do you tell her if she calls you up and asks you what you’re doing?

I don’t know, said Eva. They were silent. Then Eva said, I would tell her that it’s of no importance, and she doesn’t have anything to worry about.

There were sounds in the hallway, someone had come in from outside and was going to the toilet. Johanna heard a man’s voice. Are you ready? And then the flush, and the door, and a woman saying, I think he’s nice. Just coming, said the man. Again, the door, and then the woman’s voice. I’ll wait outside. Eva shrugged her shoulders, and said she’d better get going too.

JOHANNA MUST HAVE BEGUN her letter five times. Dear Eva, I’ve been thinking about what we were talking about. I’m familiar with the other side of the problem, I was the victim of a man’s cheating. No, she thought, I wasn’t a victim, I didn’t know anything. My husband committed adultery, she wrote, but she didn’t like the phrase either. My husband cheated on me. And why should Eva care? She had wanted to tell her to leave her lover, she was damaging herself and him and his family. But was that really what she believed? What if she hadn’t found the letters, but had thrown them away unread? It wasn’t Manfred, it was she who had hurt herself because she hadn’t been content to leave things alone. And wasn’t it actually her fault if Manfred had cheated? He must have missed something in their relationship. Maybe—and this was the most comfortable version—it was something physical. Reading your letter made me blush. Your erotic fantasies turned me on. Johanna had never written sentences like that to her husband. Sex in their marriage had been a wordless affair for something that was transacted in darkness, and wasn’t discussed. Perhaps you had to be apart from a man to desire him in that way, to be able to write him sentences like that. She had never been away for more than a day or two at a time. Then she had written Manfred postcards that didn’t have anything on them that the postman couldn’t read.